


It Just Writes Itself

by junuve



Series: We Foolish Vessels [1]
Category: Nier Gestalt | Nier, Nier Gestalt | Nier Replicant | Nier (Video Games)
Genre: Bittersweet Ending, Family Bonding, Fluff, Gen, Humor, they write 'fanfic' together, weiss cant figure out how to sleep, yonah is very helpful
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-10
Updated: 2020-05-10
Packaged: 2021-03-01 17:14:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,551
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23590651
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/junuve/pseuds/junuve
Summary: Weiss has some strong opinions, especially about the material Yonah has been left to read! Some stories are too broken to fix, but maybe the two can give this one a happier ending?(Sweet fluff with a bitter aftertaste. Set in the early game.)
Relationships: Grimoire Weiss & Nier, Grimoire Weiss & Yonah
Series: We Foolish Vessels [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1543177
Comments: 6
Kudos: 29





	It Just Writes Itself

**Author's Note:**

> If _The Giving Tree_ is your favorite children's story, I'm sorry to inform you that Weiss (in this fic) _does not_ like it.

Grimoire Weiss observed Nier as he lumbered around his humble home gathering up materials to fulfill another whim of some passerby ‘client’.

Whatever the job was to begin with, Weiss had forgotten. It was _that_ pointless. But Nier went about fulfilling this request with the same extreme intensity he had toward harrowing life or death situations.

Nier was sober; painfully so. He never smiled and rarely laughed, despite all Weiss’ attempts to tease out reactions. All in all, he was proving to be a fascinating challenge for the Grimoire. Yet as entertaining as this ‘game’ was, Weiss was growing a bit concerned… for Nier’s sake. Such severity could be hard to navigate in light of the drudgery their quest entailed. The repertoire of Sealed Verses would indeed not be easily obtained, they had found. Weiss could foresee that this journey would take more from them than it would ever return.

That was how journeys were, correct? They were draining.

In truth, he had never embarked on anything of the sort, but he was still somehow certain his notions held true.

The man Nier was already run ragged to start. How much more could he possibly endure?

Weiss certainly had not envisioned the one who would stumble upon a being so important as himself to be a man well past his prime. He’d imagined someone younger, prettier, more intellectual…

Of course, Weiss wasn’t disillusioned by this, he was merely amused.

After all, the great Grimoire Weiss had a purpose to fulfill, and Yonah and Nier had _something_ to do with that. Why else would he be taken by two unfortunate yokels so immediately?

Though it could be scarcely seen, Weiss was smiling, or rather grimacing, as he watched Nier pause and scratch at his chin. The man had completely forgotten what he was supposed to be doing, and was profusely trying to recall. Weiss would have helped, but he was beset by a spell of lethargy.

It gave Nier a chance to exercise his mind, he thought smugly.

After a good minute, Nier’s wrinkled expression vanished as his memory sparked. He strode over to a sack laying up near his bed and yanked it open, doubling over to dig into the bottom of the container.

The Grimoire sighed within himself, only the slightest rustle emitting from his pages. This man had no idea how ridiculous he looked, did he?

Nier was overly charitable with his time. He said it was all just the right thing to do, honest work, and it kept business rolling, yet Weiss sensed there was an ulterior motive therein. As Nier committed to the various tasks of the townsfolk, it was becoming clear to the Grimoire that this tedium was Nier’s… _escape_.

That was sad.

… _terribly sad._

Nier needed a hobby, a less irksome release from their daily quest, but Weiss would press this issue at a later date. In the meantime he would scout for interesting things that his partner ( _professional_ partner) would enjoy.

It wasn’t of fondness Weiss took this upon himself. No, it was a matter of business, of getting from point to point. No deeper feelings entered the equation.

Nier paused in his gathering.

“Wait, how many ferns did I need to…?” he trailed off, and then called out abruptly, “Weiss!”

Nier turned back expectantly, and Weiss was already hovering forward, flipping through his pages himself—endless lists detailing various jobs.

Nier quickly scanned over Weiss’ opened pages, reaching out to keep his place with a finger. Before he made contact, Weiss shied away from the touch.

“Oh, sorry,” Nier said as he retracted, “…guess I’m still not used to… uh, living books…?”

This was his fumbling attempt at humility, Weiss assumed.

“It’s fine. The item you’re after is here,” as the Grimoire spoke, the words that Nier needed to find grew embellishments, illuminated by Weiss’ living ink.

“Thanks.” Nier dipped his head and turned away, carefully placing three of the greens in the pack.

“Alright, looks like that’s all,” he told Weiss, “wanna come with me? I’m just dropping stuff off.”

“I’m grow weary of floating hither and thither. I think I shall turn in to my shelf,” Weiss replied.

Nier nodded slowly, mind still running over his agenda. “I’ll be back in a little while.”

He slung the pack over his exposed shoulder and headed out.

“Make sure Yonah stays inside. It’s getting cold out,” he kept speaking as he wrenched open the door, and paused to give a final order, “don’t touch anything.”

“Very well,” Weiss responded, suppressing a beleaguered sigh. He did roll his eyes as the man closed the door.

Weiss swung around, flouncing over to his shelf. He came to a rest on it, observing the room from on high like a quaint overlord.

The book grumbled.

He was already bored by the prospect of waiting around for another cycle of rest to pass in this shabby little village.

As much as he liked Nier and Yonah, this village was just so tiresome.

It _smelled._

Maybe he could venture to try and sleep? That worked for the humans when they wished to pass time.

He remembered being rudely awoken by Nier, so he _was_ capable of sleeping, but he had no recollections of _falling asleep_. How curious…

Weiss decided he would try this going to sleep business. What did the people do again? Lay down and close their eyes…?

He laid down on his back cover and cut off his visual input. There he remained in silence for a few minutes, but no cessation of processing occurred within his pages. The lines of words still bubbled throughout as the arcane text went about its work to keep him alive… or as alive as a book could be.

Maybe he had to think about _nothing_.

Weiss meditated. On nothing. Which was something, annoyingly enough.

“Confound it all…” he muttered.

If a mere human could achieve this surely he could!

Weiss tried very hard, but it simply would not come.

He then had a thought about how other tomes were stored, all neatly placed in rows, pressed face to back as they were in the library. He tried to wedge himself between two books on the shelf above, but his curved face had him stuck about halfway in. Still, he struggled to make this work.

And then he started to think about how inappropriate this might look to passerby. Weiss wasn’t sure what was proper etiquette for books, to his shame. Such a display as this could be vulgar!

He wriggled wildly, freeing himself and hissing at the pain, and then at the other books, “damn useless mindless _cookbooks_ …”

Weiss buzzed over to Nier’s bed and pinched a pillow between his pages, hoisting it back over to his shelf, only dropping it three or four times.

Weiss twisted around in the air, heaving the pillow into the space between his shelf and the one above. He used his body to squish it further into the shelf, and then burrowed into it, hoping his hunch that the downy plush which humans roosted in had aught to do with falling asleep.

Mmm, this was nice! He’d never felt something so soft before. He liked the pillow. And so he was thinking about how pleasant the pillow was, which was preventing him from sleeping on the pillow.

He screamed into the pillow.

_This wasn’t relaxing at all!_

Amidst his distress, Weiss had completely missed Yonah coming downstairs. She clattered around in the pantry until she found something to snack on.

Snack acquired, in the form of an apple, the little girl padded over to observe. She stood beside the shelf watching Weiss scream into a pillow, all while eating her apple noisily.

The pillow flew out from the shelf, rejected for its heinous crimes. Yonah watched it flop harmlessly onto the floor, her brow wrinkling as she looked back up at the book.

Weiss sat on his shelf, his back to her, staring at the wall in an attempt to calm down.

Going to sleep was extremely stressful, Weiss realized. Why did anyone ever do such a thing? He couldn’t conceive why anyone would—

“What are you doing?”

Weiss shot up, hitting the shelf above him. He winced.

Yonah just kept eating the apple. “Are you OK?” she asked as it took him a second to right himself.

“Hm? Oh, yes. Quite.” He shook himself, rustling his pages.

Yonah was staring.

“What?” Weiss asked, agitation clear.

“Whatcha’ doin’?” she repeated her first question.

It took him a moment to parse such slothful speech, spoken around a bite of apple no less.

“ _What am I doing_?” he rephrased, pronouncing each word distinctly to teach by example, “I am going to bed.”

She scrunched her face up at that. “Books go to bed?”

“I’m not sure they do, if I’m completely honest,” Weiss admitted, “I’m beginning to think it’s impossible, actually.”

“Where’s your bed?” She stood up on her tiptoes, trying to see the contents of his shelf.

“I have the pillow…” Weiss informed her, tilting down to look at it as it laid on the dusty floor.

Yonah tipped her head at him. “That’s just a pillow. Where’s your blanket…?”

“I don’t have a blanket.” Weiss didn’t get cold, so he didn’t need one, right?

But wait…! What if _that_ was the key to falling asleep?! He hadn’t accounted for the downward pressure effect of a covering. Yonah was onto something, he was sure of it.

Weiss hummed to himself, deep in his thoughts. Yonah perked up, as if some brilliant idea had struck her. She crammed the half-eaten apple in her mouth, holding it with her teeth like a little barbarian, before she rushed back up the stairs.

Weiss watched her go, wondering if he should follow, but he presumed she would be fine enough. Yonah eventually tromped back downstairs, apple still in her mouth, yet carrying some new thing in her tiny fist.

She marched up to Weiss, and as if it were the most precious gift in the world, offered up a scrap of crumpled fabric to him.

Weiss inclined a tendril of magic, careful to not pinch her skin as he grasped, and lifted up the gift.

“Oh, how wonderful…” He inspected the scrap closely. “What is it?”

She pulled the apple from her mouth in time to say, “part of my blanket.”

“Your…?” Weiss realized all too late, “oh dear.”

It _was_ a most precious gift.

“Yeah, my quilt! It’s soft and warm and it makes me feel good at night. It’ll make you go to sleep!” she claimed, and then began finishing up the apple with a gusto.

Weiss neatly laid the scrap down on his shelf, folding it over just-so. He assumed a relative had made this quilt for her… He only hoped it had not been her mother. Nier would be very cross if that were true. Naturally, the man was quite protective of his late partner’s belongings.

Weiss chose his words carefully as he spoke to Yonah, “I’m very happy you gave that to me but I shan’t be needing anymore gifts, alright? I have my own… supplies. No need to share your own.”

“OK.” She nodded and kept nibbling on the core.

“Why don’t you go… do whatever it is that you do?” his words meandered, “ _please?_ I’m still figuring out this sleeping business and this isn’t helping.”

Yonah ignored him mostly as she pondered his plight, "have you tried counting sheep?"

Weiss squinted at her.

"Counting sheep…?" he did not hide his skepticism.

"Counting sheep! You know… like, to go to sleep! You count them and count them and count them…” Yonah trailed off eventually, “then you fall asleep!"

"Ah. But sheep…? Why not goats?"

She giggled at him, repeating the word, “goats…” to herself, and then giggled some more.

"Why not?!" Weiss had no clue what was humorous about such a valid question.

Yonah stopped and seriously considered his question.

"I dunno,” she resolved with a shrug, “I dunno why we do half of the things we do…"

“Then ask!” Weiss tried to impart some reason to the girl, “that is my _modus operandi_.”

“Your _what_?”

“Motto.”

“Huh…?”

“What I live by!”

“Ohhhhh…” she nodded, trying to look as wise as the book himself by frowning and shuttering her eyes.

“Stop that,” Weiss said, unsure what the girl was doing. She was making fun of him, wasn’t she? “Leave me be… please?” he repeated, more awkward than before.

“Hey!” Yonah said louldy as she came to a realization, “you know what helps me when I can’t sleep? A story!”

“A _story_ ,” Weiss repeated, befuddled.

“Yeah, like from a storybook,” she explained.

_Oh, dear…_ a children’s story… Weiss pondered flying out of a window, but that would be a bit too impolite for a book like himself.

Yonah marched up to a shelf below, picking up a rather faded, meager book.

“This is one Popola just gave me!” she declared, holding the book up for him, “I only read a little bit of it, but I’m sure it’s going to have a happy ending!”

Upon the cover the words _The Giving Tree_ were scratched, mingled within some rather crude drawings of what was most likely supposed to be a tree. The illustration dribbled across the cover and wrapped around to the back where there was printed a monochrome portrait depicting the ghastly visage of a man.

Yonah noticed Weiss staring at it, perhaps, as she spoke up, “I don’t like looking at the back of it either. The face is scary.”

Weiss was feeling a little self-conscious about his own face now. Did he look so… _repulsive_? Surely not!

“I wish it looked more like your face.” Yonah glanced at the storybook and wrinkled her nose. “You look nicer.”

“I do?” Weiss was doubtful.

“Yeah!” she replied, “you’re like… a spoon. One of those fancy spoons that my mom would find and collect.”

_A spoon?!_

“I see…” Weiss drawled, trying to take that as a compliment.

At least he didn’t look like this ‘ _Charity Tree’_ ' story's author.

Scuffs and marks adorned the covers of the children’s book, and the page edges were discolored from finger-traffic. It was perhaps the most revolting thing Weiss had seen in his life, and he had been unfortunate enough to see Kaine’s fashion-sense.

Yonah walked over and plucked up the pillow off the ground, handing it up to Weiss.

“Don’t forget your pillow, Weissey!” she chimed.

“Mmm,” he hummed, gently grasping it between his covers and stuffing it back on the shelf as he had before. He supposed it was better on his shelf than on the ground, though he was sure Nier wouldn’t appreciate it being in either place for long.

Yonah plopped down on one of the dining chairs beside the shelves, crossing her legs in the seat (which was far too large for her).

Yonah cracked the book open, and its spine creaked in ways that made Weiss want to gag.

“I’m gonna read you this story, that way you can sleep!” Yonah told him, “so lay down.”

“I don’t think this is necessar—”

Yonah, not taking a no, stared at him until he leaned back on his pillow. Once he had complied, she began to read. Loudly.

“ _Once there was a tree…_ ”

Yonah gave the page a good once-over before turning it, and then she gave the next page and its art a looking at before reading more.

“… _and she loved a little boy…_ ”

Yonah squinted at the page, pursing her lips, and then took her time turning to the next page.

“… _every day the boy would come…_ ”

She turned to the next page, her pace somehow more lethargic. She squinted at the art upon the next spread, turning her head to and fro as if she couldn’t quite make out the words.

Yonah started and stopped, giving everything another once over to be sure. Time had not been kind to these pages.

Yonah began to speak, but stopped again.

…Weiss couldn’t take it anymore.

He darted over her shoulder to read along, but was confused himself by the smeared mess of things in the book.

Yonah turned around, scowling at Weiss.

“You have to lay down or you’re not gonna go to sleep!” she said indignantly. “Now lay on the pillow. And don’t forget your blanket!”

Weiss backed away a few inches, frown slightly worse than before.

Yonah snapped the storybook shut and stood up on the chair. She pointed at the pillow.

“Lay down!”

Weiss looked at the pillow, and then turned to her.

“No.”

“You can’t sleep when you’re flying.”

There was logic to that, Weiss had to admit.

Yonah made sure he laid down in the pillow and even went as far as to tuck him in with the scrap of quilt, covering him up to just under his wearily sculpted eyes.

Only once she was satisfied that Weiss was in peak sleeping position did she sit down. Again, she cracked open the ancient book and began to read Weiss to sleep.

As the pages cleared up she picked up speed. It became apparent that the young girl was excited to have someone around as she read.

Yonah described more of how the boy and the tree would play. He would climb her trunk and swing from her boughs. They would play games together, like hide and seek. The boy declared himself the king of the forest whilst wearing a crown of her leaves. Yonah even turned over the book and showed Weiss the picture of the boy reclining in the shade of the tree.

“… _the boy loved the tree very much. And the tree was happy._ ”

As she read to Weiss, her diction and confidence rose. Weiss couldn’t help but to admire her determination with her plan. Sleep wasn’t coming to him, but a restful aura pervaded the home, he noted.

He suddenly had an inkling as to why anyone would undergo the horror of child-rearing.

Yonah continued the tale. As the years went by the ‘boy’ was boy no more, and the tree was often left alone.

Yonah’s typically pleasant expression turned dour. That wasn’t good. But Weiss was too interested to tell her to stop, and remained silent as she continued. It would have a happy ending anyway, he was certain of it.

That was how fairy tales ended, correct? He had never read any, in truth, but he was certain this held true.

Yonah read further, describing the tree and the boy’s relationship as time wore on. The boy grew from a youth to a man to an elder, and at every meeting with the tree, he asked for more - for her apples, for her branches; for her trunk.

This ‘boy’ stripped the tree bare, whittling her down to naught.

But it couldn’t get worse, Weiss reasoned. There had to be some atoning sacrifice on part of the boy, or a requital at least…!

These things had happy endings, did they not?

It had to…

Yonah turned to yet another page, her frown just about summarizing how the Grimoire was feeling.

After a long while, the ‘boy’ came back to visit the tree, one final time.

“‘ _I am sorry, Boy,’”_ Yonah read the words of the tree, _“‘but I have nothing left to give you.’_ ”

The tree was but a miserable stump.

Yonah read the words of the boy, who claimed that he need not much, but simply a quiet place to sit and rest.

Weiss was fuming.

_Oh, now he didn’t need much?! After those long years of taking and taking?!_

“‘ _Well, an old stump is good for sitting and resting.’_ ” Yonah’s enthusiasm for this story had all but dried up as she read the tree’s final words, “ _‘Come, boy, sit down and rest.’_ ”

Weiss’ pages were _curling_.

_The nerve!_

Bereft of all dignity and purpose, the once mighty tree deigned to straighten herself out and make herself a seat for this—this _wretch_!

The boy took a seat on the tree.

Yonah finished the story, “ _and the tree was happy._ ”

She closed the grungy storybook, her lips pursed as she stared into space.

“Wow… that was… a story,” she said simply, blank expression lingering.

Weiss was silently seething, too full of words to put any sensible sentences forth.

_Who had given this storybook to her!?_

He was furious! But he had to contain his wrath, for Yonah’s sake. She didn’t need to deal with him too after reading such a sorry tale.

And to add insult, this book hadn’t even made Weiss sleepy, it’d made him more agitated!

“What a loathsome tale!” Weiss sat up on his pillow, unable to keep from blurting out, “no wonder this pamphlet is unkempt as it is.”

Yonah glanced up at him. “You didn’t like it?”

“No! Absolutely not!” he was scathing, “the tree kept getting taken advantage of! What a disgraceful display. No one should so selflessly give their all to someone who will not do the same, who does not love so dearly in return.”

He snorted in disgust. “I’m sorry you had to read that, quite frankly.”

Yonah searched the ground, forming a response, “I didn’t like it either… it was too sad. I wish it had a happier ending.”

“I can’t believe this story was recorded and kept over these eons,” Weiss said, “if I were to tell a children’s tale, it would go very differently!”

Yonah had a thought.

“Wait… are you—” she paused before asking, suddenly a lot less glum, “are you a storybook?!”

Weiss jerked back.

_What?!_

“It’s OK,” Yonah tried to comfort him, “you can tell me. I keep secrets good.”

Weiss angled away, side-eying the little girl.

“I’m not a storybook,” he stated.

She gazed over at him, hope dying in her big, round, soft blue eyes.

“Oh…” she said, crumpling over, _“_ I was hoping you had better stories…”

Weiss stared at her.

She added a tiny, “…sorry.”

The old book sighed within himself, floating closer to her.

“I am not a storybook,” he repeated, and added with as much pizazz as his tired drone could muster, “…I am a _magical storybook_.”

Yonah’s smile rebounded, her eyes gleaming with the same excitement.

“Can you tell me a good story?!” she didn’t hesitate to ask.

Weiss went to start one of the stories stored within himself, but luckily he realized that every tale he could recount was rather… _sorrowful_. Lots of death and decay, and misery to spare…

Why was this so…? He didn’t quite remember adding these stories to himself.

Weiss had a haunting premonition, and so the Grimoire decided to never think about these ‘stories’ ever again.

But he did manage to conjure a serviceable idea.

“Hmmm, I do apologize, but it seems most of my tales have slipped my memory. However, what we can do is change the story we already have on hand,” Weiss explained.

Yonah squinted at him. “Huh?”

“Now see this story here,” Weiss lifted up the book in question with a magical force unseen, “we can change it into anything we could possibly think up.”

Yonah looked at him with awe. “We can do that?!”

Weiss scouted around, and after the cursory sweep, asked, "do you see anyone that would stop us?"

Yonah glanced around herself, even checking above much to Weiss’ amusement, and then shook her head. “You’re right!” She was excited, and confused, but mostly excited. “What do we do first? To change it?”

“Well, it was pretty good up until the boy decided to abandon the tree, I’d say,” Weiss surmised, mulling it over.

Yonah thought hard, "maybe the boy doesn’t leave… maybe he stays. Maybe he takes care of the tree."

Weiss’ heart was heavy as he considered the deeper meaning to that innocent statement.

“Then he shall!” Weiss declared with confidence, “he shall perhaps… build a tree fort. Maintain the lawn. Trim and keep the area from bugs and other nasty things, all while she provides the shade, the food, and such.”

Yonah clasped her hands, already carried off by her vision of this new iteration of the tale.

“What else happens?” Yonah thought some more on it, not waiting for an answer to her question, “the boy can’t stay there forever. What about getting married and stuff?”

“Right right,” Weiss pondered. Marriage… that was a thing humans were lent to do, wasn’t it? It made little sense in the scheme of things, but perhaps there was an allure to lifelong companionship of that sort.

“What if… he fell in love with the tree?” Weiss proposed.

Yonah’s eyes widened

“You can’t kiss a tree!” she claimed.

“You could!” Weiss corrected her, a bit offended as a being made of paper, and therefor tree-adjacent, though he did have to admit, “…it wouldn’t be very… pleasant.”

“Well, what happens after he tries to kiss the tree?” Yonah was skeptical now.

Weiss started uncertainly, “the boy goes off on a quest to find a potion to uh… turn the tree into a woman!”

Yonah leaned back in the chair, thinking deeply on this new development.

“Does the tree want to be a person?” she asked.

Weiss seemed to consider this question deeply, “in ways… _yes._ Yes, she does.”

“I bet she will be very pretty…” Yonah said, drifting off as she tried to imagine the visage of a tree person. She imagined knobbly bark for skin and wrinkled her nose. “…or maybe she’d be ugly.”

“Does her beauty matter if she is the boy’s true love?” Weiss inquired.

“…I guess not,” Yonah thought about it, “I was just imagining gross tree skin…” she thought on it some more, “oh! She could also have really long hair that’s like leaves when they’re falling. That’s neat!”

“Ah, that would be,” Weiss agreed.

“I bet the potion is really hard to get,” Yonah switched back to the plot, concerned about it more deeply than she should have been, perhaps.

Weiss bobbed as if to nod. “It would be difficult, but that makes the story all the more heroic! Nothing shall get in the boy’s way. Now, where do you think a magical transformation potion would be?”

“…in a house!” Yonah said this without any irony.

“Hm, well then,” Weiss chuckled at how _simple_ that was.

“Surrounded by LAVA and—and DRAGONS,” she tacked on with glee.

“Oh, dear.” The Grimoire had a feeling this tale might go a bit longer than he had intended.

Yonah’s imagination was streaming away from her, charting an epic in two seconds. Or that’s how it felt to Weiss.

The tale the two wove grew quite silly as the boy seemed to haplessly traipse through danger time and time again. He returned to the tree with terrible potions that did all sorts of unforeseen things, like turn the tree purple or give it vestigial wings. Weiss couldn’t hear half of the things Yonah would say for all her giggling. When she got around to side effects like polka-dots, he had to wrap it up. It was just _too_ silly.

And Weiss was starting to crack up too much himself…

And so, finally, the boy returned with the right potion to bring her forth in a mobile form—to give her a body that could walk with him and live a new life, free of root and rot.

“But!” Weiss interjected, grounding the end to a halt, “they’d used too many potions prior. There was a _reaction_. This potion turned her into something beastly, like a gnarled oak.”

Yonah’s smile fell.

But Weiss had to keep on. He was making a point.

“The tree is crying, because she is a frightening creature of leaf and twisting branch,” Weiss explained, “she still devours the earth to keep alive. It is as if naught has changed.”

Yonah jolted forward. “Noooo!”

Weiss took his time before he revealed, “however, the boy does not care. He thinks she is beautiful regardless.”

“Wait, really?” Yonah’s voice regained its warmth as she considered things, “that’s so sweet…”

“It is only fair, for she was there all along for him. But even greater yet, the boy does not care about being fair, for true love has no eyes,” Weiss said sagely.

“What…?” Yonah lost the thread entirely.

“One day, you will understand,” Weiss told her.

He had no idea what it meant either. It just sounded less shallow when he put it like that.

“Moreover, they were madly in love, and went on many grand adventures. After which they saw fit to be married, and lived happily ever after… etcetera etcetera,” Weiss rushed the end, “feel free to pen the ensuing domesticities and such, if you like.”

Yonah clasped her hands together, enraptured by the parts she could grasp, and charmed yet by those she could not.

“I’m gonna draw new pictures for this one!” she said with enthusiasm, “and you can put the words on them. We’ll make a _whooole new book!_ ”

Weiss dipped. “That would be a worthy project! But I think it is now _you_ who should be getting ready for bed.”

“Huh?” Yonah stirred from her dreams of book-making. “Really?”

“Yes, my inner workings tell me that much time has passed. Actually, where is your father…?” Weiss wondered aloud. It had been a while. Perhaps Nier had been waylaid by yet more ridiculous requests.

“Where is he?” Yonah asked, her voice free of merriment, or much emotion at all.

“He went to run an errand in the town square,” Weiss told her.

He floated up, swiveling towards the door. “You stay put. I’ll go find him.”

“OK,” Yonah said.

She thought to herself a moment, words forming in her mind slowly.

“Hey… Weiss?” She caught the book before he departed.

“Hm?” The Grimoire turned back around.

“Sorry I couldn’t help you go to sleep. But…” Yonah seemed disappointed in herself, but glad nonetheless. “I had a lot of fun. You’re really good at being a storybook.”

“…bah, don’t apologize, girl,” Weiss couldn’t believe she was worrying about it, “it… _was_ fun, and I imagine that having a bit of fun every day is key to falling asleep, hmm? So I’m one step closer to figuring it out thanks to you.”

“Yeah!” she agreed.

“Now, you get as ready as you can for bed, and I’ll get your father,” Weiss excused himself.

“Alright… night, Weissey!” Yonah got up from the chair and stretched, heading for the stairs.

“Goodnight…” Weiss then realized how she had spoken his name, “—er, wait wh—?”

Yonah was already plodding up the stairs.

The Grimoire shook himself. It was no matter. Now it was high time to dislodge her father from whatever bind he’d gotten himself into this evening.

Weiss floated out the window, passing a large man loitering just outside it.

“YAUGH,” Weiss made a very unbecoming noise, launching himself sideways, away from _whoever_ it was.

Of course, it was Nier leaned against the window, his arms crossed, wearing a strangely pleasant look on his face.

He calmly tracked Weiss as he spun away, eyes softening with… amusement?

Weiss righted himself, demanding an answer, “what are you doing?!”

Nier glanced in through the window, and then at Weiss, offering no words. He seemed to be… _thinking_.

Had he heard the entire thing?

Nier shrugged finally, but his expression lost its amusement. Was this new look his resting face or was he truly mad now? It was hard to tell.

Oh dear, had Weiss overstepped his boundaries? Yonah was Nier’s child, and they didn’t get much time to spend together due to his occupation as… whatever he was… not to mention her disease and—

“My apologies,” Weiss spoke quickly, “if I had known you were here I would have—ah, she is your daughter. I know you don’t get much time to—”

“Huh? You’re fine,” Nier sounded a little confused.

“Oh… I see,” Weiss paused, unsure what to say.

Nier was deep in thought. He was pondering things, clearly.

_Terrifying_ …

“I’m happy you two were having fun,” Nier mentioned as he got up and went to the entry.

“Oh.” Weiss twisted around to follow him as he walked by, curious.

“But why were you standing here?” Weiss said as Nier opened the door.

“I was eavesdropping,” Nier answered bluntly, gaze tracking up and down the Grimoire. “I learned a lot. All I need to know, maybe.”

Weiss didn’t like being scrutinized like that.

“…about?”

Nier ignored the inquiry as he stepped inside. “I’ll take it from here.”

The man stopped and gave the shelf-nest of pillow and quilt-scrap a once over.

Weiss was a little embarrassed at how sloppy it looked. _What was he? An animal!?_

But Nier seemed to think it was amusing too.

“Why don’t ya get some rest?” Nier added in good humor, “you can even keep my pillow.”

“Oh, alright? Very well…” Weiss was still puzzled as Nier walked on and started up the stairs.

The Grimoire stared vacantly ahead, unsure how to register being spied upon.

Weiss suddenly realized Nier was lingering on the stairs, looking back at him.

Before Nier turned away, he shined a kind smile to Weiss, likely for the first time since they’d met.

… _and that made the book very happy._

**Author's Note:**

> I kinda didn't expect to go so hard on this but it turned out to be a great prompt. Hopefully you had fun reading this, so by all means tell me what you liked (or didn't) in a comment!
> 
> This work uses a few excerpts from _The Giving Tree_ by Shel Silverstein.


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